Isaac's Last Run
by DoraCatBuu
Summary: Isaac failed to kill Trevor Belmont, and now he is at Dracula's mercy. With one final chance, Isaac must confront Hector in the renewed Castlevania. But will he kill Hector, or will he defy Dracula's last order in the hopes of redeeming his soul?


DISCLAIMER: I don't own Castlevania. Konami makes the games, and I can't remember who made the manga. And I wish they didn't kill Isaac. I love Isaac so very much.

It had been a game. It had all been a fun, little game of hide and seek, cat and mouse, of tag, of whatever the fuck you wanted to call it. It had been amusing, but now, it was horrifying. Now, it was no longer a game. Hector had gone from being a source of amusement, to a full-on threat, one that would kill Isaac if he didn't hurry with his plans. Not only that, but that scum, Trevor Belmont, had joined the fray. Never mind that the two were unlikely allies. Never mind that one was a weak forgemaster, the other being a human. They were both out to kill him, and he was quickly finding he was unprepared. Sure, he had nearly defeated Belmont, but Hector, stupid Hector, had come to interrupt him. It had been a costly mistake to fight in the Aiolon ruins.

"Damn him!" Isaac snarled, running from the secret entrance leading to the ruins' underground, to the cold, frozen courtyard of the abandoned castle, the place where this terrible game had started, "Damn that Hector, and his constant reminder of presence! Damn him and his persistence!" He tramped quickly up the steps, past the gates, and skidded to a stop outside of the large fountain that held up two staircases leading to the large front doors, which stood closed. It was there that he looked up at the sky, the snowflakes falling gently on his red hair. Why was this a bad thing? He had _wanted_ Hector to regain his power. He even mocked the man for it. And yet, now that the danger was so terribly close, he realized he was afraid. He was _not_ the strongest forgemaster in Dracula's army. He never had been. He looked down at the ground, the snow swirling in the cold wind.

"...when... did I realize this?" he asked himself softly, the cold air escaping between his lips as he spoke, "And why? What... what is happening? I am not weak. I do not fear my opponents... and yet... I'm scared." He closed his eyes, trying to clear his head. He had seemed so clear, so definite when he entered those blasted ruins. But after the fight with Belmont, he realized he was in a fog. He no longer knew what to do, save for doing whatever it took to revive Dracula. But the question he was facing was this: what _would_ it take? Was he truly willing to do _anything_ for Dracula? He couldn't answer those. He shivered, not just from the cold, but from that realization. It was a startling one.

'_You are weak if you give up now, mortal,_' came the voice he both loved and feared. Isaac growled under his breath. He wished that he hadn't heard that voice. It made it hard for him to focus. So many things were happening at once. And yet, the voice didn't fade as it said, '_Go, my servant. Go to the secret chambers within my castle. Fulfill your destiny as my forgemaster! I deem it so!_' Isaac shivered again. Yes, he must do Dracula's bidding. It was what he gave his life for. He nodded, and yet his feet wouldn't move. This didn't feel right. He took a deep breath. In his moment of free thought... if ever he was to find freedom, just a shred, it would be now. It'd have to be now.

"But... my master... Hector is strong. Stronger than I, no doubt now," Isaac began, his breath growing ragged in the sheer cold, "And he is with that wretch, Belmont. Master, I cannot defeat them both! I am strong, but I am not invincible!" The last words, he had shouted so loudly that they reverberated off of the mountain top, echoing clearly over the dark skies. And for a moment, there was silence. Had he succeeded? Had he won just a touch of sanity from his master? Isaac risked the weakest smile. And then regretted it. He had not won. Dracula's silence was a terrible thing. It pointed to Dracula's consideration on such words. And Isaac knew too well he had shown weakness. Weakness was a cause of death in Dracula's hands. Isaac felt the feeling of utter defeat well up in his stomach.

'..._are you going against me, my servant?_' Dracula asked him slowly, dangerously. The feeling inside of the red-head grew. He felt ill. He staggered a bit at the severity of those words, the tone of that merciless voice, grim and bitter to the end.

"No, master! I am merely pointing out a problem!" Isaac cried out, and corrected himself, "I mean, a potential of a problem, my lord! Please, forgive me! I am mortal, and I am weak! I beg of you, forgive me!" Dracula went silent again, and Isaac prayed to whomever would still listen that this didn't end with his own death. He had been faithful to the end. He let himself descend into madness for this man, this vampire. Had he not done every request down to the last word? He had killed Rosaly to lure Hector back. A sad gesture, a cruel one, but one that Dracula himself had ordered. His body shook as he waited for his master's answer.

'_You are forgiven, my loyal slave_,' Dracula replied at length, '_Now go. To the secret chambers! Make haste, lest my creatures devour what is left of your pitiful soul!_' Isaac's eyes widened. He knew Dracula would hold that bet. He rushed around the fountain and up the steps to the large door. Carefully, slowly, quietly, he opened it. It was heavy, but it swung in silently. All the better for avoiding Hector. It closed as he stepped fully inside, and as it did, Isaac felt his own fate closed in on him as well. Everything was too terrifying now. The familiar blood-soaked rugs, the crumbling pillars, the broken walls and bent candles... such details scared Isaac, as though this were truly the first time he entered the castle. Just as he had years ago, when he first became a devil forgemaster. When he stood _alongside_ Hector, instead of _against_ him. How much less terrifying this had felt back then! Isaac felt his fists clench as he remembered the thought. If Hector hadn't abandoned him, he wouldn't be alone now. He wouldn't even be worrying about this. They would be serving their lord together, and shaping the world to suit him and his minions. It was a beautiful thing to think. And yet it had been torn away.

"All because of that _traitor_," Isaac growled, scowling at the floor, "That disgusting, pathetic traitor!"

'_And yet who is the pathetic one, truly?_' Dracula asked him, and said, '_You have failed many times, my servant. I forgive, but I do not forget your failures._' Isaac winced. He'd much rather have heard that Dracula thought he was a flat-out loser. But Dracula wasn't so kind or simple. He preferred torture, whether it was mental, physical, or emotional. Anything to bend Isaac to his will. Isaac shivered again, and turned around toward where the voice had come. The thought of the first day he'd been struck flashed through him. All for letting one devil escape. All for Abel.

"I have tried!" he screamed down the hall, "I have tried to do as you bid for years, my _lord_! You will forget my failures and..." Isaac was thrown back with such force that he slammed into the wall. He coughed up blood; he hadn't yet recovered from the injuries Trevor had given him. Slowly, he slid down, groaning in agony as shards of stone cut into his back, his blood trickling down the wall in thick rivulets. He felt his eyes water, but he didn't _dare_ to shed a tear.

'_I will forget nothing, you insolent child!_' Dracula hissed, as though he were right next to Isaac, '_Including this! Tell me, Isaac, do you enjoy punishment so much?_' Isaac swallowed hard, the movement causing spikes of pain to dance up his neck, into his jaw. He felt his back becoming slick with his own blood. It hurt. It hurt him so badly. If anything, it was freeing him more from the evil vampire's bastardly grip. And yet, even that spelled no ounce of safety.

"No..." Isaac whispered, wincing as he tried to move. He found he couldn't. It hurt him too much to try.

'_THEN MOVE, YOU PITIFUL VERMIN!_" Dracula commanded angrily, and Isaac felt a large force hurl him to his feet. He bit his lip until he tasted blood; damn it, the movement was killing him! But perhaps that was what Dracula had intended. And it did sound relatively peaceful. Except that he still had to kill Hector. He had to kill _something_. Anything, to cure this horrible pain. He winced as he stepped forward, turning to go down another hall leading to a doorway, splitting just before that. It hurt... he wanted to die, the pain was hurting him so badly. If only Abel hadn't been defeated. The poor devil needed rest; he couldn't possibly help Isaac. Slowly, Isaac turned to the left again, staggering up the stairs. He saw the trail of crimson blood he was leaving. If this didn't stop, he would die of blood loss. He fell to his knees.

'_Up, you fool! Up!_' Dracula commanded furiously, and Isaac felt an invisible blow on his backside, causing him to scream in agony. He couldn't control it. He prayed, just for that second, that his former ally, his _friend_ would come to his rescue and see that he was not all that evil. But Hector did not come, nor would he. If he did, it was to slay Isaac once and for all. Something that looked like it would be impossible to do now; Dracula was close to killing the poor man as it was. He felt another blow, and another scream followed. Dracula said, '_Do not cry, you pathetic, moronic maggot._'

"I will die if I continue on!" Isaac cried out, gasping for oxygen to reach his burning lungs. He tried to brace himself for another blow, but it didn't come. He felt the pressure on his back release. Then, he felt something cool, like water, run down and wash his blood away. It numbed the pain, but only a little. It was enough for him to walk. Dracula wasn't kind enough to fully heal a disposable soul such as his.

'_You are healed, my servant. Now run, or I shall negate my kindness!_' Isaac suppressed a whimper, and ran up the rest of the steps, to the second floor. Higher up, the outside wind was brutal and merciless. Pain shot through Isaac's wounds as a Fenrir watched him, the dog's red eyes boring into the wounds upon Isaac's back. It didn't move to strike, but it did watch with an eerie intensity Isaac didn't feel like thinking about. He edged down the path, his eyes watering as the wind howled through the sky, sending snow swirling around everywhere. It felt unbearably cold, and Isaac wasn't sure whether it was from blood loss, or just naturally being so chilly. To speed up the time being out here, he tried to run. And he regretted it. The stones were slick from the snow, and he fell, slamming into the ground as another jolt of pain slammed into his back, up his spine and into his shoulders. He wanted to howl in agony, but that'd just make Dracula even angrier. Isaac _had_ to live. He _had_ to kill Hector!

"...Abel!" he called, his voice strained, "Abel, help me!" But, his devil didn't show up. It was still weak from when Trevor defeated it. Fear gripped Isaac again. He was alone, and his enemies were growing by the number. He stood up; his head was spinning from the pain he felt. He could barely make out the path, and the railings that served to protect those paths. He gripped one until his knuckles went white. He had to go on, but he'd lost too much blood. His arms shook, even as he leaned on the railing. Desperately, he called, "_ABEL!!_" And again, he was ignored. Dracula, in the back of his mind, laughed.

'_You should know that when a devil is killed, it can only be revived with hearts_,' Dracula mused, '_How ironic, since you no longer have one. Abel is too weak, just like his master_.'

"_SHUT UP!_" Isaac shouted, his voice booming across the mountains. He winced as he heard the distress, the agony with which his voice carried. He was sure that Hector had definitely heard him. For a second, he listened for the footfalls of Hector entering that courtyard, his boots crunching on the snow. But there were none. Whispering, he said, "Leave me alone! I must think!" Dracula laughed again, and Isaac could see him picking up a dagger, in his chambers, so far underneath this crumbling castle of his.

'_Think of what?_' the vampire asked, '_Of how you will right your wrongs, Isaac? Or of your failure? Which is it, my little servant?_' Isaac growled. He didn't need this, any of it. But he'd have to endure it. He just had to get up to the fourth floor and find that passage. That would shut Dracula up for good. Because then, Isaac could kill the vampire himself. Dracula laughed, this time his voice cold and harsh as he said, '_So you wish to kill me, do you? You wish to drag yourself out of the pits of hell you threw yourself into? No, no, my little servant. You don't get to do that. It isn't so easy._' Isaac shivered. He hated the tone of Dracula's voice. It was seemingly gentle, but there was always a threat when it was so. He learned that years ago. And he had respected it. Now, he just feared it for himself. Expecting a whiplash, he took out his spear, his Chauve-Souris. Again, Dracula just laughed.

"What, are you going to kill me now?" Isaac dared. There was something to be said about nearly dying: it made you less likely to hold back what it was you wanted to say. And Isaac felt certain he was going to die soon. Dracula went silent again. All the better for Isaac. For the moment, he had some time to clear his head. His spear felt heavy in his hands, but he was able to hold it. The Fenrir eyed it with a hint of terror, but Isaac didn't notice him. He looked around for any sign of the old vampire, or of his voice. He seemed to have been scared off. But only for that tiny moment.

'_Don't tempt me, you wretched brat_,' Dracula finally said, '_You are daring to fight me when you're on your last leg? You, who have stood by me for three years, are going to turn now? Why, Isaac? What reason do you have?_' Isaac frowned, lowering his spear. He was hoping to avoid that question. Mainly because he had no reason. He had no reason not to continue his plan. He wasn't Hector; there was no revenge, no one to fight for. Not even his sister. _She_ had Hector. But him? Isaac had nothing to stand for _except_ to revive Dracula. As if reading these thoughts, Dracula said, '_You have nothing. You are alone without me, child. And yet, you have these terrible, little thoughts?_'

"...forgive me, my lord," Isaac said, walking forward as the wind blew again. There was nothing else he _could_ say. Even he knew now he'd gone too far. Hector wouldn't have allowed this to happen. Hector was stronger than that... Hector... Isaac suddenly stopped. He _did_ have a reason to free himself. Hector was like a double-sided coin. On the one hand, Isaac hated him; he betrayed their master and left Isaac, who knew no better than to follow. But on the other, Hector had found his way out. He had found a life. And he could help Isaac. Isaac smiled warmly. Hector would be able to do something, in some way, to help him. Even if it meant killing him. Isaac's life meant so little, anyway. All he had to do was lure Hector just a little further. He stumbled forward, his legs beginning to numb from the pain again. He wished he hadn't tried running. It jammed up the little bit of energy he could muster.

"Just... a little... more..." he panted, reaching the stone steps that led to the door. What a damn obstacle they were, too. Taking a deep, ragged breath, he clutched his spear to use as a walking stick, and started onto the first stair. His head still felt groggy, and his foot nearly slipped on the slick ice. He hesitated. If he fell again, he wouldn't be able to move at all. He suffered too much damage as it was. And, at the edge of his consciousness, where that undead bastard always lurked, he felt Dracula's impatience rise again.

'_Why are you not moving, my faithful servant?_' Dracula demanded, and Isaac shut his eyes, trying to drown the image of that malicious, wicked grin, '_Are you hurt? Ah... no, you're thinking again. Tell me, what are you thinking as you stand there, like a fly in a spider's web?_' Isaac growled. He wished Dracula wasn't so focused on him. It was difficult enough keeping his thoughts from Abel. Keeping them from the vampire was nearly impossible on a _good_ day. He knew that if he thought anything, Dracula would hear it. The best he could hope for was a shadow of a doubt to flicker across that pale face. He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the tearing cold as it entered his lungs.

"That traitor," Isaac managed to say, "And how... how to... how to kill him." His mouth felt so dry, from being so high up, but he hoped Dracula didn't hear the hesitancy in his voice. He wanted to kill Hector, yes, but there was more to his thought than that. And, unfortunately, Dracula _had_ noticed. Isaac took advantage of the silence as he hobbled up another stair, his legs shaking from the effort. He had to get up and find a place to rest, just for a moment. Another stair passed him, and his arms shook again. Each step felt like it was taking so much of his life away. He prayed that Hector was close by, to make this easier for both of them. And right as he had that thought, he went flying through the air and slammed into the door he was trying to walk to. He heard another crunch as he screamed, sliding down onto the floor. He saw more of that sickeningly crimson blood on the metal; Dracula had smashed him into the wall again. He understood the thought too well.

'_YOU LIE!_' Dracula roared, his voice ringing mercilessly in Isaac's ears, '_YOU FILTHY LIAR! YOU LYING WORM! YOU HAVE LIED TO ME!_' Isaac's eyes widened as Dracula screamed. Not only was the voice too loud, it sent shocks of hatred ripping through Isaac's mind, filling his vision with the red of mortal agony. He tried to sit up, but his head went back, slamming into the door again. Black began to settle in his eyes; he was going to fall unconscious if Dracula didn't stop. The only thing saving him was how crucial he was to Dracula's plans. Dracula relented, just slightly, and said '_Go now before I decide to end your existence_.'

"Yes... my lord..." Isaac managed, and felt for now, Dracula's consciousness leaving his. There were other things he needed to attend to, which was good for Isaac. Slowly, painfully, the man dragged himself to his feet. Black still hung around the edges of his eyes, and he looked somberly at the blood trickling down the doorway. How many more had suffered the same punishment from Dracula's hands? Isaac found he didn't want to know. He laid a hand on the doorknob, wincing as he felt his own blood, sticky on his palm. Trying to ignore it, he turned the knob and walked into the long hallway. All was silent. Even his mind was quiet now. Breathing heavily, he went down the hall, glancing around at everything. It all seemed so unreal now, and every detail swam before him, obscured by some fog he couldn't part now. The floor wobbled unsteadily in his vision, and he saw the door swimming toward him. He reached out, grasping the cool bronze handle. The door swung to the inside. Isaac wasted no time. He was so close now. He pulled the heavy chain on the ground, and the staircase leading to the fifth floor folded out before him. He smiled dully. Finally, it would be over soon. He just had to get up those stairs.

"Just... a minute more..." he whispered, walking up the steps, his boots echoing through the large chamber, rattling the skulls that seemed to occupy every corner in the room, "Then... I can rest... bring my energy back..." He walked on, mumbling under his breath, feeling his exhaustion trying to overwhelm him. Finally, slowly, he made it to the secret chamber. And he shivered. The air felt old and stale. No one had been here for years now, and a fine layer of dust covered the floor. The candles had been burned down to their last wax scraps, casting the room in near darkness. Isaac swayed as he made his way to the center, taking out a small vial of blood. Trevor Belmont's blood. He'd been lucky enough to get what he needed to open the seal to the final dungeon. A sense of calm reached him as he swished the blood in the vial.

"And now... now we'll see which of us... is stronger," he said, and opened the small vial up. He dumped the contents onto the ground, smiling as the seal was lifted. But he dared not break it; he didn't have enough blood to do that. Hector would need to finish the job. Isaac threw the empty vial onto the floor, and made his way to one of the windows overlooking the furious sea. Hector would need to come now. He'd laid enough of a trail for the man to follow. Let him do the rest of the job, unwittingly. Teeth chattering, Isaac laid his hands on the windowsill, taking in the view. It was the first time he noticed how beautiful it looked, black and violent. He had never noticed it until now, when his life was hanging on its fringes.

"...the ocean," he said to himself, "I'd nearly... forgotten how beautiful it was. But how long can I stand here to look? I must finish this job... but I want just one minute more. One minute to remember this ocean before I take my last step out of the realm of sanity and into the depths of death. Just... just one. Just until he gets here." He let out a sigh. One minute really was nothing to ask for. But it was denied regardless. Isaac turned quickly, as he heard footsteps in the hall. They weren't Hector's. But he recognized the voice that spoke, calling his name with such hatred, such distaste. Trevor Belmont _again_. Isaac's fists clenched. Nothing was easy for him. And he was in no mood to fight. He dove for a corner behind the bookcase, just as the door slammed open. All Isaac saw was the swish of brown hair against that blue coat before Trevor was in the center of the room.

"_Isaac!_" he called angrily, "Where are you, you _coward_! Fight me!" Isaac smiled silently. Trevor wouldn't find him there. Trevor might not find him at all. He closed his eyes, glad to have been fast enough to hide. Slumping against the bookcase, his back resting against the leather of the books, Isaac closed his eyes. And as Trevor called him, he let his mind unravel. He was passing out.

Isaac awoke to what felt like hours later. By that time, everything had become a mess. Bookcases had been upturned, their books and pages scattered across the floor. Windows had been broken, admitting the faintest rays of moonlight inside, revealing a purple carpet. Wind had swept the dust away. Isaac blinked, wondering just what the hell happened. He edged forward and peeked out over a shelf. Trevor Belmont stood in the center, waiting in front of what looked like a portal of some sort. Isaac's face paled, and then he grinned. Hector _must've_ come! Hector succeeded! Isaac pulled himself to his feet. Finally, it would all end soon. But first, there was Belmont to deal with. And unfortunately for him, that deal would be death; Lord Dracula had been clear that the Belmonts must be eradicated. Isaac's grin disappeared, and the remembrance of his injuries flashed across his eyes. He had barely recovered. If he went in a straight-on assault, he'd die. But what could he do? He wasn't entirely without morals... except that he had caused Rosaly's death in the sneakiest of ways.

'_Human morals are so troublesome, are they not, my servant?_' came Dracula's bored voice. Isaac's brows creased. That was the last person he wanted to hear right then. Dracula just continued with, '_If you're so tired of me, I could just kill you._'

"...just stay out of this," Isaac mumbled. Having regained his strength, he regained a sense of himself as well. He wouldn't outright disobey the vampire, but he could try to be creative with how this was carried out. He stepped out of the shadows, toward Trevor, and then stopped. Just how _would_ he do this? He didn't exactly want to kill Trevor, but he couldn't let the Belmont live. Dracula would never allow it. He shivered. Dracula never allowed much of anything for him. And if he didn't do something, the old vampire would pester him. Clenching his fists, he took a knife from his belt. It was better to get this done fast. Taking a deep breath, Isaac ran silently to where Trevor was standing, and thrust the knife through the man's chest. He winced as he heard Trevor gasp, as he tried to pull the knife out. It was sticky with Trevor's blood.

"You... fiend..." Trevor wheezed, eyes wide with shock as he fell back, "What are you doing here!?" Isaac managed to catch him, and felt him trembling in his arms. Damn it, the man was probably going to die for that wound. To his surprise, Isaac found he was frowning. As much as he had served Dracula, as much as he had murdered, he just didn't want to see another man die. Especially someone as honorable as Trevor. He may have been defeated in the Aiolon Ruins, but he saw grace and power in Trevor's moves. He respected the agility he'd witnessed, and the flow with which Trevor completed his moves. And now he'd have to end this man's life for _Dracula_, who nearly murdered him for one question.

"I can't have you interfering beyond this point," Isaac replied quietly, though his voice still rang out in the vast room, bouncing off the walls, "...I left that seal to Hector." The last part, he said with hesitancy. It was true enough, but what he left out was why. How could he tell Trevor what he was truly planning? Not that the man would actually believe him. No, he would never believe the word of a servant to Dracula. Nor would he offer to help. He'd probably just whip Isaac to death, or watch as Dracula raged and destroyed Isaac's mind. The old bat wouldn't take well to a betrayal if he managed to find out. Hence why _he_ had to go after Hector at all. He hesitated another second to look at Trevor's face. The poor man looked confused. Agonized, almost.

"Impossible!" Trevor breathed, his voice strained from the pain of his wound, "The seal cannot be undone except with a torrent of demonic energy! Hector... could not know that!" Isaac looked away toward one of the windows. It was gray outside, the clouds thick, with lightning crashing occasionally. He could hear the waves slamming into the cliff faces as Dracula's castle continued to rise as he stood there, speaking to Trevor. Soon, very soon, the end would be coming. He could feel his body shaking with anticipation; he had to hurry this up. He dug the knife back into Trevor's chest, wincing again. Trevor jerked in pain, his body spasming from the movement.

"Do not equate a devil forgemaster's power with that of an ordinary sorcerer," Isaac warned seriously, "For a seal like that, the magic in battle is _more_ than enough!" Trevor groaned in pain, and Isaac somehow managed a chuckle. It was small, almost too soft to hear, but he did so as he said, "Placing a guard there proved to be your downfall." It was actually ironic, really. In a way, Trevor had actually managed to help _resurrect_ Dracula instead of keeping him sealed forever. The poor man... if he knew, it may just crush him. If Isaac's knife wounds didn't kill him first. Trevor tried to get away, but found he couldn't move. However deep the knife had gone, it was restricting him. His muscles were beginning to clench, his back aching and throbbing. Isaac took another deep breath and said, "Enough talk." Then, in an attempt to maybe, just _maybe_ heal some of the damage he'd done, he kissed the back of Trevor's head, like a mother kissing a child goodnight. And what a symbol it would be, too. Trevor might not live to see another hour. A good night it'd be indeed.

'_Kill him, my servant!_' Dracula whispered, as Isaac was about to let Trevor go, '_Kill the Belmont! Do it, or I shall kill you!_' For once, Isaac actually agreed with the vampire. It'd rid the world of the Belmont line, and it would show Trevor just a shred of mercy. At least, in Isaac's mind. A shiver ran up his spine. Another man killed at his hands. So be it. His own life would be ending soon.

"Time to _die_," he whispered, so gently that Trevor barely caught it. And then, Isaac ripped the knife away, blood spilling from the wound, down his hand, and splattering around the two of them. It soiled the rug, seeping deep into the floor. Trevor screamed in terror, and fell to the floor. Then, he was still. He had said nothing. Even in the face of defeat, even with Isaac's cowardly ambush, he had said _nothing_. Isaac flinched. Waves of nausea filled him. Damn it, he didn't want to kill another man! He knelt to the floor himself. Damn it all, why did Dracula have to be at the edge of his consciousness all the time? Why could he never have complete control of his own mind? Even if he didn't kill Trevor, Dracula would've found a way to. Damn it all!

'_Rejoice, my servant! You have slain the Belmonts!_' Dracula declared proudly, and Isaac clutched his head to rid it of the man's dark voice, '_You have nearly succeeded! Now come! Come to your master and claim your reward!_' Isaac's eye twitched madly. Reward could've so easily meant _death_. Wherever Hector was, he _had_ to hurry. Isaac had no choice but to go on now. He could do nothing for Trevor; only time would tell if the man actually managed to live. Time would tell everything, even down to his very last moment, when he would force himself to face everything he'd done to get here, everything he'd given up. And it made him laugh. During those years, he had lost nearly all his sanity to this creature of hatred he called a master. During those years, he had been disillusioned and persuaded by evil power that no mortal should've had. During those years, he lost his own sister and his best friend, all in the name of Dracula. His laughter rose, bouncing off the walls, off the windows, rising until it rang with the very pitch of insanity itself. He laughed until his lungs burned, either from lack of air or injury. And slowly, he backed away, out of the room. And he shut the door.

Isaac felt relief as he went down each flight of stairs in the old, crumbling castle. The monsters that had inhabited it merely watched him leave, wondering just what could've been happening. As fellow servants, they all felt the tremendous power of darkness as the castle was resurrected from the very depths of the ocean itself. But Isaac offered no explanation. Likewise, the monsters posed no question. Taking a deep breath, silently wondering if Trevor or Hector were alive, he strode to the large front doors. He nodded to a huge, undead warrior who opened it for him, and then he walked out into the night. The door shut behind him, and he looked up. The clouds were being chased away, revealing a pitch black sky. How very fitting for his master to wake up to. It made Isaac scowl angrily. He wanted nothing to do with going back there, but he found he had no other choice. If he went to find Julia, she'd offer no help. And if he waited for Hector, he'd be killed. And then there was Dracula himself. Any second, the old vampire would come back and resume half-possession of Isaac's mind. The man's eyes narrowed.

"Stupid bat," he grumbled, and stormed down the steps onto the courtyard. And then he stopped. This was where it all started; where he had first met Hector, years ago. Where he plotted to draw Hector out. Where he'd lived for the past three years, preparing himself. And then, when he confronted Hector. So many memories, and so little time to reconcile them all. When had the madness truly set in? Isaac felt his eyes water, for just a second. Memories of his old friend were going to die so soon. He would never get to even say he was sorry. Or to say goodbye. He let out a deep sigh. Quietly, he walked to the lip of the fountain and stared into the ice. His reflection was broken, shattered almost. He snorted. That was his own soul to a tee.

"...one day, Hector, you'll understand," he whispered to himself, "I promise. When I die... I'll make sure Rosaly is all right. I'm... I'm sorry." He clutched his spear. Apologies wouldn't help him, especially apologies to no one. He had to move. Taking out a blue ticket stub, he closed his eyes. He hadn't planned on visiting Julia, but perhaps as a last brotherly act, as just a reminder to what he had been before, he would say goodbye. He had to. He uttered the words to warp him, and he felt the sensation of time itself being compressed, of matter being flattened, and then he found himself in his sister's store. And right there, she stared at him, wide-eyed and utterly bewildered. He stepped forward and said, "Sister."

"Isaac," she whispered back, almost dazed, "What... what are you doing here?" She was confused. Surely, she was sure the first thing he'd do was kill her for helping Hector, but as she looked at him, she saw a different light from the last time she saw him. There was no maliciousness, no hatred in his eyes. He looked sane. She bit her lip. Could she trust him? She had no choice. He walked up to the counter.

"I'm saying goodbye," he said, and explained, "Listen to me. Dracula's castle has risen. Hector is going there, I know he will. I'm going on ahead to meet him... to end this madness I suffer. I have control for now, and I need you to believe what I say. Trevor Belmont is in the abandoned castle, and he's severely injured. That staved off Dracula's influence, but you need to heal him. Go, find him, do what you can... and then help Hector." Julia's eyes widened further. To hear such a thing! And from her own brother. And, he was being _genuine_. Just what _had_ happened to him?

"Isaac... what is going on?" she breathed, unable to comprehend the meaning of his words, "You are... against Dracula?"

"I no longer know what I'm against," he replied calmly, "But my madness must end. Julia... I've made terrible mistakes. By God, I've made my personal hell, and I'm going to end it. Devil forgery... it's a blessing and a curse, as Hector once said. I was arrogant... but he understood the truth. And now, I understand why he left. Please, my little sister, help Trevor and Hector. I have revived Dracula... but they can kill him. Please." Isaac forced himself to stop. He was no doubt confusing Julia, and now he saw she was trembling. He looked away. Damn it, she looked too much like Rosaly. She took several deep breaths, as though trying to convince herself this was real. Slowly, she nodded.

"I will..." she whispered, her eyes watering as her mind registered what this was meaning, "Anything else?"

"...yes," he said, and closed his eyes, "In the end... when this is done, and Hector wins... tell him that I'm sorry and I'll be waiting with Rosaly." Julia nodded again, unable to believe what was happening. Isaac went to step forward, and then he stopped. He was causing his sister enough pain. Gently, he reached over and patted her head, like he used to when they were younger, and she would get scared of the storms outside. A tear fell from his eye as he said, "Goodbye, little sister." Julia looked up, tears falling as she was ready to protest, but he was already gone. All she saw was a golden ticket stub on the floor. In desperation, she grabbed it. It was the very last piece of her brother she'd ever have. And it told her clearly where he was: The Mortavia Aqueducts.

Isaac stood on the stairway, looking over the banister toward the open sea. Before, it had been flowing with pure, clean water. But with the arrival of the evil castle, the sea had drained entirely, opening the bridge to the sunken castle. Thunder was already raining from the sky, and the clouds were already darkening around the full moon. Time was running out. And his next destination was right in front of him. But he no longer felt the elation at the thought of Dracula coming back from the grave. Instead, he felt dread. Not only at the fact that there was a good chance Hector would die, but also because he felt there was something Dracula wasn't telling him about this long-awaited encounter. But he couldn't find what it was. He shrugged. There was no point in questioning. He had to go on; if he kept Dracula waiting, he'd be dead long before he saw this through.

The castle loomed before him in just a matter of moments. This was where it'd end, Isaac knew, as he looked up. The architecture had lasted so long, and so well, despite being underwater. It was almost beautiful to see. Isaac couldn't help but smile at that; compared to the castle toward the southeast, this one was amazing. Three arches stood to greet him, with three doors hiding beneath the archways' shadows. Only one of the doors were accessible, however. The other two had been barred shut. Isaac could see, just in his peripheral vision, that two harpies were sitting near the eaves of the large fortress, watching him with eerie silence. He wasn't surprised that the gargoyles had long since fled from the place. The sight of the harpies brought a sense of relief through him, too, as though a grim welcome to his new, and most probably permanent home. One of them swooped down, stopping just before him.

"Greetings, Isaac," she hissed, though not in malice as was the normal case, "I see you have succeeded. Congratulations." But any emotions Isaac thought such praise would incur were gone. Isaac just nodded, and proceeded past, much to the creature's confusion as she and her sister watched him. He tugged the handle of the heavy, metal door, and slowly, it opened. The inside was bright with candlelight, almost so much that even Isaac was sure he'd go blind. It made him worry. Dracula wouldn't be pleased with such light. Isaac stepped into the castle, turning just once to the watching harpy.

"Tell him I've arrived," he said grimly, though he knew there was no point. Dracula would already know. The harpy, however, seemed to understand his plight. She nodded, and flew off. Which left Isaac to wander the large castle, trying to find just where he should go now. He hadn't entirely forgotten the layout of the castle, but he didn't know the damage sustained from being submerged, either. He had learned to not take chances. Taking his time was already chance enough. Lips thinning with such a reminder, he strode forward. The lizardmen in the entrance watched, giving only the slightest of nods, and Isaac ignored them. A time that felt so long ago, he'd have laughed, or perhaps even mocked them. But not now. Now he had such few moments to plan out how he could end this grueling battle, between he and his old friend. He couldn't be bothered to harm the 'lesser' ranks of Dracula's army.

Isaac walked through the halls briskly, avoiding as much of Dracula's army as possible. It wasn't that he was afraid of them, but he needed the time to think. And with his pace, along with Dracula's impatience, he was already dancing on thin ice. Most of the army at large ignored him; only a few ghosts actually risked a glance or two, and only the lowliest of skeletons made a gurgled yelp of surprise at seeing him. Their comrades rushed them along quickly, though, knowing that Isaac's presence was much more than just overseeing their progress. No, this was something far worse than that. And the only thing to accompany Isaac on such a daunting stroll was silence. But he didn't mind silence. Not when he had so little of it; even when he was alone, Dracula was always just on the edge of consciousness. He was actually surprised the old bat wasn't with him _now_. That could've easily meant anything, though. Isaac didn't dare to get his hopes up.

What felt like an eternity later, Isaac had reached the top floor of the castle. By that point, the normal chatter among Dracula's lesser ranks had long since ceased, and the hush of being so high up pressed on Isaac. He glanced around as he came to a crumbling stair that wound upwards around the outer wall of the old castle. There was nothing to stop him, though he did note that the carpet was soaked with a liquid he'd rather not think too much on. It made a squishing noise as he stepped, and he winced. He _hoped_ it was water from the ocean; the place had been submerged for years, and it was likely the interior rugs were dripping with salt water. But a small corner of Isaac's mind told him it was blood. He cringed. He'd lost too much of his own blood to want to think of how much someone else had to suffer to soak a rug this large. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself forward, ignoring the _plip plop_ and _squish_ noises as he stepped on the carpet, heading up the stairs. It all just felt too terrifying, yet all too familiar, when he reached a large, red door moments later. And he stopped. Through that door would be his last destination on this earth. He had always told himself he'd defeat Hector, but he was no idiot. He knew he was going to die.

"I've got nowhere else to go, though," he whispered, looking down at the crimson rug, the night sky above darkening it, "...idiot." He sighed. He remembered, not too long ago, when he'd have been excited to wait for Hector, to taunt and tease him. But now, he was considering just running away again. Dracula hadn't come back to his mind. He had a chance, though he knew that when Dracula found out, he'd die anyway. He cursed. He should've run off when Hector had. They could've banded together. They could've stopped the evil count. They could've stayed friends... just like before...

"Wishful thinking, hmm, sir Isaac?" came a soft, deep voice from nowhere in particular. Isaac looked up and saw the Succubus float down, landing just a few feet behind him. She was frowning, but her expression held none of the seductive arrogance it normally had as she said, "You're regaining the light side of yourself." Isaac just bit his lip. That was true enough. There was no use arguing.

"Perhaps I'm realizing that Dracula's way isn't right," he replied, hoping to divert the point, "Must we fight? Dracula has a number of willing vessels! Why one of us?" For a moment, the two simply stared at each other. Isaac already knew the answer, and the Succubus already knew he knew it. There was no need to have that conversation again. She looked down, just slightly, her expression continuing to soften. Was it possible that she held sympathy, like the Harpy had?

"I offer... just one last piece of advice for you," she said slowly, hesitantly, "As dark as the human may be, their heart is always pure, sir Isaac. That is the true strength of what it is to be human. When all else has failed... your heart will be your best weapon." Isaac tilted his head, pondering her words. Did he even have a heart anymore? He had taken Rosaly's life, and the countless lives of others with little to no provocation... and yet now... he had spared, hopefully, Trevor Belmont. He even said goodbye to his sister. Was there just a basis of truth to the Succubus's words? As if to read his thought, she said, "There is."

"How can I possibly have a heart after all of this?" he asked her, and his eyes widened, "Am I that weak?"

"There's nothing wrong with having a heart, sir Isaac. We all have one, somewhere," she replied, "It's a matter of... of..." The Succubus stopped suddenly, and turned quickly toward the upwards path, toward the final chamber, toward Isaac's new grave. She had felt an evil presence, one that pervaded everything else within the castle. There was no mistaking it; Dracula had heard their conversation. He hadn't left Isaac's consciousness, after all. The damned bat waited for this moment. The Succubus turned to Isaac, wanting to tell him to flee, but as she opened her mouth to speak, she was thrown into the wall. Isaac heard her wings crunch under her body. She slid to the floor, motionless, blood dripping off the walls.

"S-Succubus!" Isaac cried out, realizing that she had been killed. He ran to her side. Damn it, he made up his mind now. She was, for all intense and purposes, his friend. She didn't deserve that. He bent down, and laid her on her stomach to inspect her back. The bones of her wings protruded from her back, sticky with her blood. It sickened Isaac to see. Another friend killed because of his weakness. His fists clenched. And inside his mind, he heard that son of a bitch laughing for it, too. Just as he laughed when he learned Rosaly had died, when he learned Hector had been nearly killed. Isaac's eye twitched. He hated that laugh.

'_Heart? How... ironic, coming from her. She had no heart_,' Dracula said coldly, and laughed again, '_But you do. Troublesome thing, truly. I'll need to get rid of it._'

"You leave my mind this instant!" Isaac roared, standing up, "I'll not give in again. You've killed too many, Dracula. Too many of my friends!" Unfortunately, Dracula had little humanity in him. He simply laughed again, shaking his head. Isaac, his dearest servant, having _friends?_ It was too funny. Isaac was a tool of evil, to be used to forge his new world. Isaac was allowed no friends, though it did make Dracula wonder how one could even find friends amidst his army. But he discarded the idea. His attention returned to the young man.

'_Friends? How touching. But the Succubus had no soul. She was a tool, as are you, and Hector_,' Dracula said, and when he realized the growing fury in Isaac, he grinned, tauntingly, '_Ah, sore subject. I'd ask for forgiveness, but why forgive yourself when you already know what you say is truth?_' Isaac backed away, knowing the next step in Dracula's plan. He turned, intent on fleeing, but Dracula was faster still. Black enveloped Isaac's sight, and he stumbled on the stairs, falling to the ground. He was left defenseless against his unseen foe.

The possession had happened so quickly, that Isaac's very soul had been shocked out of himself. He hovered in the air, at first unable to believe that he saw _himself_. And yet, it wasn't him, either. He was up there, in the air, hovering, shivering as he watched his body rise, the evilest of visages on his once-handsome face. But Dracula's magic contorted it, a face of pure evil, so to speak. A face Hector would recognize all too well. He had watched, stunned, helplessly, as Dracula commanded his body to move toward its final destination. He watched as the red doors were thrown open, as his body walked to the center of the room. And waited. Helplessly, so helplessly, Isaac floated around the room. There was nothing he could do now. Dracula was in his body now; he wasn't strong enough to push the old vampire out. All he could do was wait for Hector, for the only one who could possibly help him.

The wait hadn't been long. Or perhaps it had. Isaac lost all sense of time, being out of himself so literally. But when the doors were thrown open yet again, Isaac's soul perked up. Hector was finally, _finally_ there! Isaac's soul flew over, gaining a slight form that Hector didn't see. Finally, Hector would right the wrong, perhaps even set Isaac free. But when he saw the look upon the man's face, his hope fell. Hector was intent on killing him, his face a mask of hatred as he entered and saw Isaac's possessed body. He strode up, Isaac's soul following, and both of them glared when they saw Isaac's body clap, chuckling. He spread his arms wide.

"You've resurrected the castle!" Isaac's voice proclaimed, impressed, "Hector! Bravo!" But it wasn't Isaac. Isaac's soul cringed. This would end badly, he knew. He looked to Hector, whose eyes narrowed as he watched what he thought was his greatest mortal enemy.

"You wanted me to regain my powers. Now I see why," Hector growled, stepping forward, "I fell right into your plot!" His glare worsened, "After three years of peace... I'd lost my edge." Isaac's hopes continued to plummet. With his body and memories at Dracula's disposal, the vampire could... _would_ convince Hector to kill him. Isaac suppressed a shudder of revulsion. He wanted this to end on _his_ terms, his own way. But that wouldn't come to pass. With each second, he knew it would never happen his way. Isaac's body, his voice, just laughed, looking at Hector almost adoringly.

"And I've sharpened mine. I've been waiting quite a long time to plot my revenge," Isaac's voice said, both warm and cold at the same time, growing with intensity as he neared Hector, "Not only did my lord _die_ because of _you_, you've stripped me of my pride, my hope! Now I..." His face darkened, his wicked grin slipping into a hating scowl. "I shall make you suffer as I have suffered! You shall die a most painful, ruthless death!" Taking out his spear, Isaac's most beloved treasure, Dracula commanded the body to rush at Hector. It obeyed. And the fight began.

Quicker than his soulful eyes could begin to follow, the battle between Hector and the possessed Isaac filled the halls. Isaac's soul could only watch helplessly as their weapons clashed, steel ringing upon magical steel with the fury and hatred Isaac felt for Dracula himself. He had taken Isaac's own memories, his own former hatred, and he twisted it to burn at Hector. And the man had followed perfectly. It was just a silly game to Dracula, but one he expected to win. And he used whatever means he could to get it. He summoned every devil Isaac had created, every soul he had befriended, to batter his former friend. And Hector, always the man of honor, refused to use one himself. And it was costing him the battle. Isaac watched, completely terrified, as Abel himself charged forward at Hector, weapon aimed to kill...

'_ABEL, STOP!_' Isaac's soul commanded, and the devil halted its attack, '_DOWN! LAY DOWN YOUR WEAPONS AND RETURN!_' The devil heeded the voice of its true master, the one that had cared for it so much, raised it from the tiny pup it had once been. It disappeared, and in that instance, the fight stopped. Hector looked around, bewildered as to why Abel had left, seemingly unnecessarily. Likewise, Dracula seemed similarly confused. But the damned bat understood too soon. He spun to where Isaac's soul stood, defiant and clear as ever. Seeing Abel used to kill Hector, against his own commands, gave Isaac the fuel to defy Dracula in his distant form. And Dracula could barely comprehend it. It was more than just Abel. It was also Julia, and Trevor... and the Succubus... and Rosaly. All five of them burned within Isaac's soul!

"_INSOLENT FOOL!_" Isaac's body screamed to nothing in particular. Hector frowned, noticing something was very wrong. Isaac's body knelt, clutching his head in agony. He cursed and spittled, eyes flashing from blue to red, and then settling on blue. Isaac's soul had won, pitting his heart against Dracula's anger. The vampire's rage had distracted and drained him. And now, Isaac was free. Barely. He looked up at Hector, and the older man saw that whatever evil visage that had twisted the younger one had vanished entirely. Isaac stood, unsteadily, and stared at the face of his old friend. His own mentor.

"Hector," he said softly, "It's been some time, old friend."

"What are you about!?" Hector demanded, sensing the change tangibly. He lowered his sword. This was not the man he'd entered the room to find.

"I've not much time... Hector," Isaac explained calmly, "Listen to me. Dracula... is using me. My body, to kill you. I can barely... hold him..." Isaac knelt again, and the moan of agony he gave was true. Hector understood at once. He gripped his sword and rushed to Isaac's side. Whether out of pity or recognition for what was happening, Hector couldn't yet understand, but he knew at once that Isaac needed assistance. Hector knelt beside the younger man, placing his hand on Isaac's back. He felt Isaac shiver, his breathing becoming ragged. Then Isaac screamed again, and Hector backed away, eyes wide as he tried to figure out just how he could break Dracula's hold. He himself would be consumed by the curse, should he choose not to be careful, but Isaac would be _killed_ from it. Hector turned, trying to find something to sever the connection.

"Dracula!" he called, brows creasing, "Let Isaac go and face me! I am the one you want, come and face me!" But he knew that, without truly being resurrected, a showdown wasn't possible. He turned back to Isaac, the man spasming in pain as he tried so valiantly to defy his master. Hector's face fell. Isaac didn't have much time left. "My friend, tell me what I must do." Isaac groaned, and looked up. He looked up into the face he so long thought he might soon forget in his plunge toward insanity. It was so calm, but concerned and horrified at the same time. Hector had understood, as he had prayed. Another shiver ran up Isaac's side as he struggled to stand. He had to find the strength to give Hector one last suggestion.

"Hector..." he whispered, staggering as Hector caught him, "Kill me." Hector's arm trembled. How could he do such a thing, when Julia had asked him not to? He looked down at Isaac, and for once, saw that tears rimmed the man's blue eyes. Isaac's breath came out so thinly as he said, "Please, kill me. Hector... as my old friend... kill... me..." Hector took a deep breath. He had come here to do that, but now he saw that if he did, it wouldn't be in revenge. It would be from mercy. Isaac's soul deserved mercy, for Hector now saw that his actions were not his own, but tempered, at least in part, by the evil count himself. He nodded, helping Isaac to remain standing. He wouldn't kill while Isaac laid pitifully on the floor. For what he had once been, Isaac deserved to die in honor. He then raised his sword, level with Isaac's heart.

"Any last words?" he asked softly, knowing fully that time was running short. Isaac just smiled weakly.

"Take care... of Julia... my little sister," he replied. Hector's grip hardened, and without another word, he plunged the sword through Isaac's heart. Blood sprayed from the wound, spattering around Hector. But he paid it no mind as he watched Isaac fall, the man's broken body colliding with the floor. But he didn't scream. Isaac just laid, eyes open as the tears silently fell. Hector knelt again, and faintly heard the last of Isaac's dying words, "Hector... I am sorry... for Rosaly..." Hector's fists clenched as Isaac drew his last few breaths. Blood matted Isaac's hair, making it cling to the man's face, the blood running thin from his sweat. Hector brushed the hair away, looking once again into those blue eyes. He couldn't even smile, for he felt such sadness for the man before him. While he knew nothing would bring his beloved Rosaly back, he knew Isaac's apology was true. He wiped the blood away.

"I forgive you," he said, as his own tears fell, "Isaac..." He stopped, and realized that Isaac's face had become placid, his eyes closing as Hector had spoken. The tiny pulse that Hector had felt was snuffed, and he felt all of Isaac's muscles relax. Isaac had passed peacefully. And now, Isaac was dead. Hector laid his head down, and no sooner than that, saw that Isaac was disappearing. But bodies did not just disappear, and Hector knew that Dracula had found a way to use the man's death to his advantage. He took out his sword again. Dracula was his true enemy, and it would be Dracula that Isaac's death would weigh so heavily on. No longer could he hold back the full fury of his hatred; the old vampire killed yet another of his closest friends, albeit from the past. Any second, Death would appear to confirm it so. And Hector would be waiting.

"I will avenge you, Isaac," he growled, and then walked off to find the next minion to be slain. And Isaac's soul silently watched. Just as Hector planned to avenge him, he planned to see this through, to allay Rosaly's worry, and to make sure that Hector, his dear friend, would not fail. No longer, was he tied to Dracula. For once in the last few years, Isaac was truly freed from the curse. And he owed it all to Hector.

------------------------------------------(End Chapter)

And so, Isaac is finally freed from Dracula, but certainly not in the way he wished. When I started this, I had the intention to tell the story from Isaac's point of view, when he runs off from Trevor right until the end, but when I got there, I realized that Isaac would end without glory or much of a finale. So, I, unfortunately, ended up rewriting a good portion of how he dies. I thought it'd be a nice twist if it ended up that Dracula could actually communicate and control Isaac, and I wanted there to be a story where Isaac isn't a complete psychotic jerk. I guess I wanted to redeem him a little, show that there might just be a spark of good to him. And this is my attempt. I hope you enjoyed it, so go ahead and click that Review button!


End file.
